Love is a Curious Thing
by johnlockiou
Summary: Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson. John Watson loves Sherlock Holmes. Both are to afraid and confused to admit it to each other. Follow the duo through crimes, arguments, confessions, annoying siblings, first love, first kiss, first time. Because as both are soon to find out. Love is a curious thing!
1. Chapter 1

**Love is a Curious Thing - a Johnlock Fanfiction.**

**Chapter One**

John awoke from a deep slumber suddenly to the sound of a loud smash coming from the kitchen below, and Sherlock cursing loudly. Hurriedly throwing the sheets off of himself and onto the floor the Doctor shoved his arms through their appropriate holes in his favorite grey dressing gown. He then proceeded to tie it quickly around his half naked body, and ran down the stairs. They creaked loudly under his bare feet and the John briefly imagined them breaking under foot. However he quickly dismissed this thought from his mind with a shudder.

As he reached the bottom of the staircase John barged through the flat that he knew all too well and made his way towards the kitchen doorway.

"Sherlock are you okaaaay. Oh." Standing in the middle of what _used_ to be the kitchen was Sherlock. He was surrounded by dozens of cardboard boxes and the table was piled high with test tubes, books, microscopes and several human body parts which John could not identify. But John was not occupied by this at all. Instead John was staring wide eyed at the beautiful man in front of him.

Sherlock was wearing only a pair of tight boxer shorts which hinted to what was underneath and it made the Ex Army Doctor stare. However he quickly averted his gaze as he did not want to get caught staring. He already knew that Sherlock had caught him though. He didn't miss a thing that man. Reluctantly, Johns gaze travelled further up his flat mate's body and he lingered on his beautiful chest and abs. Again he quickly moved his eyes although he knew it was useless anyway. Then his eyes came to rest on the man's beautiful face. Eyes sharp and alert yet somehow soft in a way which only the good Doctor could ever got the chance to see. John knew that this was the case and it made him fill up with joy whenever he caught the gaze that the Consulting Detective saved only for John. Sherlock's hair was as neat as it could get, due to his crazy curls, because Sherlock rarely ever slept, and when he did it was only ever for a few hours. However Sherlock never seemed to tire. John wished it was the same for him. The detective's unique Cupid Bow lips were pulled up into a smirk and John realized he had been staring for quite a while.

"Erm John? A little help here?" Sherlock asked with a chuckle and the Doctor blushed at the thought of being caught checking him out.

"What's wro- holy shit Sherlock what the hell did you do?"

"I cut my arm" He said simply holding it up to the light and wincing at the sharp movement. Because John had been so busy eyeing him John had not noticed the massive gash located on his left forearm. Blood was dripping on to the floor and this served as a proper wakeup call. John started shoving cardboard box after cardboard box out of the way whilst attempting not to step on any glass. This was becoming increasingly difficult as he got closer to Sherlock however and as he got slower he got more worried that the detective was losing a lot of blood.

"Well that much is obvious!" said John annoyed whilst clambering over a particularly tall mound of cardboard boxes.

"I was experimenting." Said Sherlock to John, clearly thinking that John could work everything out just from that.

"Well in case you hadn't noticed Sherlock, I'm not you and I can't figure everything out just from that single sentence." He snapped at the Detective and he instantly regretted it.

"You're right I'm sorry John" Sherlock's eyes softened and John's heart skipped a beat at the sight.

"No don't worry I'm just tired is all." He said softly, angry at himself for shouting at Sherlock.

At this point John reached the other man and he gently reached for his arm. John's fingertips tingled where he touched his best friend's skin and he shivered at the new sensation.

Sherlock seemed to have felt it too as he sucked in a shaky breath.

John looked up at the detectives face and had the sudden urge to kiss those beautiful cupid bow lips. However he restrained himself and looked back down at the man's arm and focused on the rather deep cut located there.

Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes had a somewhat curious relationship. Flat mates yes, Friends yes, Lovers no. Lots of people assumed the latter and secretly John felt very happy when this occurred. Because over the past three years that John had been living with Sherlock he had at some point, he had no idea when, it must have been gradual. At some point John Watson, Army Doctor, Blogger and Sherlock Holmes' colleague had come to the conclusion that he was gay. He was gay and completely and utterly and most probably stupidly in love with Sherlock Holmes. This was completely inconvenient when it came to moments such as now. When Sherlock was in such close proximity too John whilst he was wearing only a tight pair of boxers.

It was also inconvenient because of how often he ran into Molly.

John always had a somewhat guilty feeling whenever he associated with Molly, as it was obvious that she was in love with Sherlock. It was obvious to everyone but Sherlock and John did not intend to enlighten him on this particular subject.

John's thoughts then ran to Sherlock and their first meeting. He was pretty sure that Mike saved his life by introducing him to Sherlock. He often wondered if he would have stayed living alone if Mike had not introduced the two men. He wondered if he would have another flat mate, a boring one. A boring flat mate. Was there such a thing? If there was such a thing he could not imagine living with one. In fact he couldn't imagine living with anyone other than Sherlock.

It seemed that the Consulting Detective had subtly slipped himself into every one of John's memories, old and new, real or imagined and John could not imagine life without him. He couldn't even imagine living without his arrogance, stubbornness, his rudeness. Because as much as John didn't like to admit it to himself, he knew that without these things Sherlock just wouldn't be Sherlock and John loved every bit of him.

Suddenly, waking him from his deep thoughts was a hand on his shoulder, shaking it violently.

"John? John are you okay?" Sherlock asked him, concern filling his voice.

"What? Yeah I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Well I've been calling your name for the past two minutes and you didn't answer." Sherlock explained, hand still on his best friends shoulder.

"Oh, no, sorry I'm fine. I was just er thinking" Said John, his face flushing a beetroot colour. He could not let Sherlock figure out what he was thinking about. He was lucky that the one thing Sherlock was not good at deducing, was feelings.

"What were you thinking about?" Questioned Sherlock, quickly removing his hand and intertwining it with the other. John had a feeling that the Detective knew John didn't want him finding out.

Quickly John thought of an answer and immediately wanted to face palm himself for such a stupid one.

"I was wondering whether you needed stitches" Cue mental face palm and string of profanities.

"Okay"

John was the most grateful he had ever been that Sherlock had, for once, decided not to ask questions.

"Good I'm going to go and get the thread then" said John, into the semi akward silence. He then proceeded to run up the creaking stairs of 221B and didn't look behind him as Sherlock called his name from behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Sherlock called John's name as he ran up the stairs towards his room. He had questions, mountains of questions. The only thing that had stopped him from asking them all whilst John was sitting next to him was the fact that he knew that John didn't want to be asked. Normally Sherlock wouldn't care about how other people felt about the interrogation, but Sherlock did care when it came to John. Because Sherlock was in love with John.

Love, anyone that knew Sherlock or had associated with him, no matter how briefly, knew that feelings were something Sherlock didn't have. Well if he did he never showed them. But John, John uncovered the face behind the mask, the cold mask that he always hid behind. Sherlock didn't know why this was the case and neither did John, but Sherlock did know the many reasons why he was so in love with Doctor John Watson.

John was beautiful, eyes, nose, mouth, hair, cheeks everything about the Doctor was stunning. The way he still put pressure on his right hand in the form of holding a crutch, when he was standing. The way he bent over and put his hands on his knees when he was out of breath. The way he always came home from the store complaining about the chip and pin machine. The way he rolled over in his sleep approximately every 4.37 minutes. The way John knew that Sherlock sometimes watched him as he slept and yet he didn't mind and didn't say anything. The way he put up with Sherlock's incessant ranting and raving and damn right stubbornness.

Sherlock was confused at John's abrupt exit. He had figured out that John was in deep, deep thought when Sherlock stupidly interrupted the silence. He had also figured out that it was something private by the way he changed his body posture as soon as Sherlock had questioned him. The tomato colour that the Doctor had turned was also a bit of a giveaway.

But what was so private to John was a mystery to Sherlock, although he did have inkling that it had something to do with him. He hoped it was something to do with him; it was nice to think that John thought about him so deeply, that Sherlock could not get his attention for a whole two minutes.

Although Sherlock knew this was just wishful thinking. The feeling between John and Sherlock couldn't be mutual. John had had many girlfriends in the time that the duo had known each other. Although in the past six months John had been unattached and this brought a spark of hope to Sherlock's mind.

He felt like a needy teenager. Just a bucket full of love, jealousy, longing, hope, hormones, sadness, lust, confusion and anger.

But mostly love.

Sherlock's mind quickly filled with thoughts of the Doctor and as the thoughts began to escalate the Detective began to swell. This was something that had been happening a lot recently. After a few days of having to excuse himself to the bathroom and do his business, Sherlock had finally figured out a way to, put it down, so to speak!

Anderson was the perfect cure. Thinking about Anderson sickened him instantly and thoroughly and this easily reduced the problem. Although Sherlock secretly wished John would notice his erection and piece the clues together, just like Sherlock had taught him to do. However he also wanted John to stay oblivious to Sherlock's feelings so that the Detective would not have to face the embarrassment of John's discovery.

Sherlock was confused by his feelings and he didn't like it. Sherlock was never confused.

Never.

Everyone knew that, but now this was not the case Sherlock was scared. He needed to tell John but he knew that he couldn't.

Sherlock shook himself from his thoughts when he heard the stairs creaking and John walking down them. Sherlock quickly glanced down at his trousers and sighed in relief when he saw that his member had disappeared. Thank god for Anderson! He never thought he would say that.

"I got the thread" John announced as he strode into the room, well he strode to the doorway and then again proceeded to shove all of the cardboard boxes out of his way.

Sherlock gave him the look that said "Don't state the obvious John, I'm not blind!"

"Right, sorry" said John awkwardly as he reached the Detective.

Sherlock observed John as he quickly slipped into Doctor mode. He loved this side of John, his bossiness was cute. Wait Sherlock thought, cute? He had never used this word in his life. He meant admirable, yes his bossiness was admirable. That didn't work and Sherlock knew it, but he didn't really care anymore.

Mycroft had once said that caring wasn't an advantage. At the time Sherlock had, for once, agreed with him. But now he knew first hand that caring was an advantage, in many ways.

Whenever John was in danger Sherlock was scared, no that was an understatement, Sherlock was petrified. He hadn't known it before but being scared made his unique brain work quicker, the cogs sped up and he figured out the puzzle twice as quickly as before, when he had a heart of steel. This did not mean that the Detective put John in danger, no, never. He would never purposely put his beloved blogger in trouble. He would rather die than have John hurt. He now often referred to the words he spoke to the serial killer taxi driver. "Bitterness is a paralytic; love is a far more vicious motivator."

Sherlock gasped at a sudden tugging pain in his arm. He looked down and saw that John's sewing needle was half embedded into his skin.

"Sorry Sherlock, I did tell you, I presumed you were in your mind palace" Said John guiltily.

"No it's fine, just a shock that's all" He replied upset with himself that he had made John feel guilty.

"So what were you thinking about?" John queried with a smirk. Sherlock knew that he thought of this as his turn to interrogate.

"Nothing" answered the detective with a smirk of his own. "Nothing at all."

"Well I know that's a lie. You're always thinking of something."

Sherlock smiled a genuine smile that he only ever, on rare occasions, allowed John to see. His blogger knew him so well.

"Well if you must know I was cleaning out my mind palace" He said his face emotionless once again, he knew that if he showed any emotion, John would figure out that Sherlock was lying.

"Cleaning it out?" John repeated, one eyebrow raised.

"Well I don't think I will need that information on 243 types of tobacco ash anymore."

"See I was right, I'm always right Sherlock and you know it!"

"I wouldn't say always John"

"Hmm fair enough, most of the time?" said John hopefully and Sherlock chuckled from deep in his throat.

"Because I'm feeling kind" Sherlock replied and John scowled at him. Sherlock could see his mouth was turned up ever so slightly, the Doctor was trying not to smile.

Sherlock was captivated by the Johns beautiful eyes and couldn't help but stare. They were a beautiful chocolate brown colour and Sherlock was completely mesmerized.

John seemed to be equally enraptured by Sherlock's icy blue ones. There was no noise in the kitchen, just the sound of both men's sped up heartbeat and breathing. After 20 seconds of staring Sherlock cleared his throat and looked away from John reluctantly, breaking the spell that seemed to have taken over the Detective and the Doctor.

"Um John you couldn't finish these stitches could you?" Asked Sherlock, voice husky from lust. "It's just, I er, well, thought I might tidy up a bit in here."

"You, tidy up? I wish." Said John in surprise, voice equally husky.

"Anything for you John, anything for you." Sherlock said and at this simple sentence John went bright red, ducked his head and carried on with his flat mates stitches.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Hey Guys,**_

_**Sorry this took so long to update, I got banned from the laptop! I was looking at to much "Sherlock stuff" apparently! Parents have no idea.**_

_**Anyway if you're still with this story then thank you that means a lot, and do please comment constructive criticism is always welcome.**_

_**Scarlett x**_

**Chapter Three**

An hour later and Sherlock was throwing cardboard boxes around the room, in an attempt to tidy up the bomb site that was the kitchen. John was watching in amusement and adoration, unbeknown to Sherlock of course. Sherlock had attempted to persuade to help him tidy up his mess but John had made up a very weak excuse in an attempt to escape this chore. He was meant to be writing in his blog but he was too caught up in the beautiful and hilarious scene before him.

Sherlock had thrown on a dressing gown and slippers after John had fixed his arm up, much to John's disappointment. He was amazed by the detective. John knew from first hand experience that stitches hurt, they hurt a lot, so seeing Sherlock running round the kitchen, arms flailing about madly, made John feel strangely proud of Sherlock. Proud that he was actually attempting to tidy up for one, but more so at his bravery. He knew for a fact that Sherlock was in pain and yet, for John's sake he was putting himself purposely out of his depth and helping.

It had been an hour since Sherlock had started to "tidy" and he hadn't gotten anywhere. John felt quite guilty, that he had been sitting staring for an hour whilst Sherlock was tidying, while he was injured. Actually when he focused on that guilt he felt extremely guilty. Putting Sherlock through that was cruel, John realized and the guilt welled up from his stomach and enveloped him in a big bubble.

John was quick to mentally pop it however so that he could go and help the poor man.

"Sherlock" John said quietly, the guilt nearly overpowering. Why did he feel so guilty? Sherlock spun on his heels to face John with a pained smile on his face.

"Yes John?"

"I'm sorry"

"Sorry?" The Detective queried in confusion.

"For making you do this when you're injured"

"John, don't be stupid I offered. Anyway it doesn't hurt" He said putting on a brave face.

"Sherlock I'm not stupid, I know you're in pain. God what a crap Doctor I am, what a crap friend I am." John bowed his head and examined the floor in an attempt not to cry.

"Hey John you're _not_ a crap friend. You're a great friend. A great Doctor as well might I add. John, why are you crying? John?"

Sherlock's kind words just pushed him over the edge and John couldn't take it anymore. The sadness of having to hide the fact he was irrevocably in love with his best friend. The guilt of putting Sherlock in more pain than was needed. The anger that Sherlock hadn't deduced that he was in love with him.

"John, what's wrong, please tell me" Sherlock asked voice racked with pain.

"I don't deserve you" John replied through sobs as he sunk to the floor.

"Don't deserve me! John you are the best man I have ever met. I am the one that doesn't deserve you"

"Why haven't you figured it out yet Sherlock? Why? That's your job." John whispered as his sobs subsided.

"Figured out what John?" Sherlock asked as he joined his best friend on the only bit of clear floor in the whole room.

John turned to look at Sherlock and his heart melted when he saw that the Detectives emotionless walls had broken down. John didn't think he had ever seen Sherlock look so scared and helpless. This made John feel even guiltier and the tears he were trying so hard to stop just came quicker than before.

"I'm so sorry Sherlock. Don't ask why Sherlock, I'm just so sorry." The sobs racking his body. Through his tears John could see that Sherlock looked even more helpless than before. He was staring at John with confusion, sorrow and pain. There was a hint of something, something John couldn't pin point. Something that looked very out of place on Sherlock's face. It looked like- but no it couldn't be. It was just John's wishful thinking. Sherlock didn't feel like that. Sherlock barely felt at all.

Then, hesitantly, Sherlock lifted his arm and draped it around John's shaking shoulders and pulled him towards his body in a sideways hug. John was startled at first by the sudden display of affection, but quickly recovered and leaned in to the embrace. No words were spoken between them, none were needed, and the silence did not need to be broken.

From the outside it would have looked very strange. Two men huddled in the corner surrounded by science equipment, cardboard boxes and body parts. But to both the men, it felt like the most normal thing in the world.

After a couple of minutes of Sherlock's comforting words and John trying very hard not to snog the living daylights out of him, John's sobs started to subside and he could feel Sherlock relax slightly. The Doctor knew he should be trying to regain some of his dignity, but he didn't want to be the one to break the silence. It was the closest he had ever gotten to Sherlock (in real life anyway) and he didn't ever want to move from this spot. Because Sherlock's arms felt like heaven.

"John erm not that I'm not happy in this position, I am, but er, my leg is going dead" Said Sherlock awkwardly.

"Oh right, sorry. That was selfish of me." John apologized and wiped his eyes. He felt much better now that he had gotten it all out, he felt like confessing, confessing his love for the younger man. But he knew that he wouldn't be able to.

"Not at all love, I'm sure it's good to have a good cry now and again. Although I wouldn't know I'm not one for cry-"

"Sherlock you were doing a great job of comforting, don't spoil it now!" John chuckled as he rose to his feet.

"Right well I'm going to get dressed because, well." Sherlock gestured to his dressing gown and John saw that it was completely soaked with John's tears.

John blushed and looked down, how humiliating.

"Sorry, again." John replied as he made his way back to the front room. He then sunk into his arm chair and tried to wish away the headache he could feel coming on.

"No need to keep apologizing, John" Sherlock muttered to himself as he exited the room to take a shower.

John smiled weakly to himself and closed his eyes. He was about to let the sleep take him but stopped himself when he realized that the kitchen was still a bomb site.

With a groan The Doctor pulled himself off of the couch and sloped towards the kitchen entrance. As he bent down to maneuver the first box from the path that John was sure he had cleared earlier, Sherlock's earlier words suddenly hit him like a truck.

Flashback

_Sherlock: "John erm not that I'm not happy in this position, I am, but er, my leg is going dead"_

_John: "Oh right, sorry. That was selfish of me."_

_Sherlock: "Not at all love, I'm sure it's good to have a good cry now and again."_

Flashback Ends

Not at all love

Love

Love

Love

Sherlock had called him love.

What the hell did that mean? Suddenly John didn't care about the mess of a kitchen. He was too caught up in his own thoughts to even register that he had moved from the kitchen back to his armchair. Slowly lowering himself into the chair, John's mind was taken up with questions, theories and hopes that maybe, just maybe the feelings that John had for Sherlock were mutual after all.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey Guys, sorry for such a slow update, I will try and update quicker next time. If things go to plan there should be some case drama in the next chapter. Anyway if you are still here and sticking with this story then thank you so much, it means a lot. So guys please favourite if you think me or my story deserves it and please review. Constructive criticism is always welcome.**

**Thank you,**

**Scarlett xxx**

**Chapter Four**

Why did he keep apologizing? Why, why, why? John was extremely hard to read. There was nothing to apologize about. Sherlock was grateful that John thought he could trust Sherlock enough to have a good cry on his shoulder. Of course he knew that John trusted him, but it was nice to have proof now and again. Not that he needed it of course, he could deduce everything anyway. Well anything except feelings, it seemed. Not that he would ever admit to anyone that he was having trouble.

Sherlock locked the door to the bathroom behind him and stepped in front of the tiny mirror, edges cloudy with condensation. Wiping this away with an annoyed growl he stared at his pale reflection and sighed. He rubbed at his temples, attempting to rid the headache he felt coming on. A headache was the last thing he needed, that would make it harder to figure out what the whole crying scenario was about.

Sherlock turned the shower onto the coldest setting, stripped off his dressing gown, underwear and slippers and stepped into the torrent of ice cold water. However the cold water didn't seem to have as much of an effect on his body that Sherlock had hoped. He had hoped it would clear his head a bit and help him focus on John's reaction. But his body seemed to be completely repellent to the freezing torrent. Sighing in frustration he proceeded to grab the shampoo off of the side of the bath, (The shampoo that John had banned Sherlock from using in any experiments. Apparently it was too expensive to go to waste. Sherlock still didn't understand how it was in any way a waste.) And squeezed it onto his palm. He then rubbed it into his untamable curls, with such vigor that the headache he had been on the brink of, suddenly seemed to engulf his whole head.

"Crap, jeez ouch." Sherlock cursed under his breath at the pounding in his head and quickly rinsed out the Shampoo. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed to sleep. Wait what was he saying, he had slept three hours last night, that was usually enough to last him two days.

"Love is having some bad effects on my brain" Sherlock thought to himself sourly. Stepping out of the shower Sherlock wrapped his lower half in a white towel, scowled at his neglected reflection in the mirror, unlocked the bathroom door and walked straight into John.

"How cliché" both the men thought to themselves.

"Sorry I was just going to my room" John and Sherlock said in synchrony.

"Right, yes sorry." John replied distractedly, he seemed to be trying to look anywhere but his flat mate.

"No, it's fine" Sherlock replied, frowning at how John was acting.

"You know I didn't even realize that it's three in the morning!" The shorter man chuckled, slowly raising his eyes to meet his best friends beautiful ice blue eyes.

"As ever you see but do not observe John, there is a clock in the kitchen."

"Right sorry guess I'm just a bit tired." As if on cue the Doctor yawned and it seemed to scrunch up his whole face. This made him look almost impossibly like a little baby hedgehog. A hedgehog, maybe the annoying so called "fan girls" had a valid point. (Although Sherlock supposed they were good for something. Tumblr was a very interesting place when you followed some of these people; they really did have some very… imaginative brains.)

Shaking these thoughts away from his mind Sherlock looked back down at John, to see him rubbing his eyes and Sherlock suddenly felt rather guilty that he was keeping his flat mate awake. Not everyone had a brain that could stay awake for as long as his.

"I'll let you get some sleep then, night John"

"Night Sherlock."

The Detective spun on his heel and marched off towards his room. However he stopped turned around and walked through the kitchen to the living room and stuck his head round the doorway of 221B just to watch John walk up the stairs to his room.

"John?"

"Yeah"

"Good morning" Sherlock said with one of his rare genuine smiles.

John smiled back and Sherlock felt quite annoyed with his body as he went completely weak at the knees. His body was always betraying him, he was meant to have at least a bit of control over it.

"Good morning Sherlock" John chuckled a bit before saying "see you later" With that John continued to walk up the stairs and Sherlock watched his retreating back before heading back to his room.

Shutting the door to his room he proceeded to bang his head against the door multiple times. Ignoring the sharp pains shooting through his brain as his headache reached a crescendo.

After 46 seconds of repeatedly banging his head against the door, Sherlock decided that this wasn't helping him with his deductions. He then registered that he was still in his towel. Throwing this to the floor he grabbed a random pair of boxers from his drawer (being careful to not mess up his sock index) and shoved them on, before throwing back his covers and jumping into bed with such a force he heard one of the wooden boards snap. Sherlock chuckled and stuck his head over the side of the bead. His still wet curls hung over his face and the water droplets fell to the floor and dotted the carpet. Shoving a plastic storage box, full of old science equipment out of the way he grabbed the smaller box from behind it and pulled it out from under the shadows. Pulling up his head and grimacing at the pounding that seemed to be coming from inside his actual brain, he lifted up the box onto his bed.

He smiled briefly to himself before opening the lid and pulling out his hideous Christmas jumper. He breathed in the beautiful smell of John and felt himself visibly relax. Laying it beside him he closed the box before replacing it back in its specific spot under the bed. He then lay back down and laid John's jumper over his nose and mouth. He continued to inhale Johns smell until his eyes drooped close.

Just as he was drifting off into the realms of sleep he jolted awake so fast that he wacked his head on the headboard behind him.

Love.

Sherlock had called John love.

That was why John had been acting so strangely out in the corridor. Why had he not stopped himself before saying something so… so sentimental! Sentiment was a chemical defect found in the losing side. Sherlock was _not _on the losing side. Sherlock never lost, he was the winner, the one who won. He had never lost anything in his life, (well nothing except Cluedo but in his defense, the rules were wrong!)

What should he do? Ignore the fact he had called John a pet name such as love? Tell John he was sorry? Or just admit that he was in love with him and get it over with? He knew that the most logical answer would be to tell John the truth. But he didn't want to get rejected. That would be akward and John may feel the need to move out if he knew that his flat mate was gay. Sherlock didn't think he would be able to cope if John moved out. He would be heartbroken if John rejected him and moved out. It wouldn't be home without John.

No, no telling John was not an option. So did he apologise or did he ignore the whole scenario?

Apologise? Sherlock wasn't even sure he was sorry. He wanted to be in a romantic relationship with John there was no shame in that. Why should he apologise? Well he didn't want to scare John away if he apologised and John pieced the bits together and realized he was gay.

No ignoring the situation was definitely the best option. He wouldn't say anything. He would ask Lestrade for some case files in the morning and distract himself with that.

Rubbing the back of his head, Sherlock rolled onto his side and hugged John's jumper close to his chest. Closing his eyes against his pounding headache, Sherlock slept better than he had for a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Guys I am so sorry for the huge wait! Life has just been so hectic etc. The next chapter should be up by the end of the month. I know that seems like ages but I am so busy this month! Also the next chapter will be in Sherlock's POV and he is always hard to write.**

**Please review and add to your favourites if you think my story deserves it, or add me as a favourite author if you think I deserve it.**

**I love you all loads**

**Scarlett x**

**Chapter Five**

*Beep*

_Just ignore it._

*Beep*

_It'll stop soon._

*Beep*

_Piss off Sherlock_

*Beep*

With a muffled groan John Watson lifted his head from off of his pillow and stared hatefully at his phone. The engraving "_Harry Watson From Clara xxx"_ looked back at him, it seemed smug, too smug for John's liking.

Jesus he needed to sleep more often, he had thought it would be easier to cope without sleep now he had been living with the world's only consulting detective for three years. But it seemed not, and right now it seemed someone needed him.

Grudgingly John reached for his phone and saw he had four new messages, of course they were all from Sherlock.

"_Scotland Yard. Come quickly, SH_" -08:22

"_Get_ _up; Lestrade's got a case for us, SH_" -08:24

"_John, stop ignoring me and come to Scotland Yard, SH_" -08:23

"_The kitchen is really going to suffer if you don't turn up in the next half an hour you know, SH_" -08:26

It must be quite an interesting case for Sherlock to be pressing him to come so frequently. Besides John knew that the threat against the kitchen was not empty and that Sherlock wouldn't give a damn if it went up in smoke. He checked the time 10:02; he was surprised Sherlock hadn't woken him up earlier.

Sherlock was also a very punctual being, and John was almost 100% sure that there would be a 30 minute countdown going on somewhere in the depths of his unfathomable mind.

John decided that he wanted to keep his kitchen at least functional, so he jumped out from his bed covers and rushed towards the shower.

After 10 minutes he was dressed (rather messily), and running down the stairs of 221B.

"Are you alright dear?" Mrs. Hudson queried, poking her head from around 221B's lounge.

"Yeah, case. I want the kitchen to remain usable!"

"John, what _are _you talking about? Dear you haven't even had breakfast"

"Sorry Mrs. Hudson bit of a rush, I'll explain later" He shouted as he slammed the door of the flats and rushed onto the curb outside.

"TAXI!" He yelled, as one drove past. It slowed to a stop in front of him and John jumped in.

"Scotland Yard please, quick as you can"

"Sure mate"

John anxiously checked his watch 10:14, sixteen minutes.

"You alright mate? You seem kinda worried." The taxi driver asked.

"Yeah fine thanks."

"I'll try and speed up for you, but the Traffic is horrendous at this time of the day" He replied.

"Cheers mate" John smiled at him through the mirror and the cabbie smiled back. He made a mental note to tip him when they arrived.

As they drove the Cab Driver rambled about some random show, Doctor Who. John who was more intent on staring at his watch ignored him, zoning in only enough to nod his head or hum in approval at what he hoped were the appropriate moments.

10:16 – fourteen minutes.

10:17 – thirteen minutes

At this point John suddenly realized that he wasn't counting down to the kitchen demolition anymore, he was counting down the minutes until he saw Sherlock. As much as he hated to admit it, he missed him.

"The twelfth doctor was revealed last night actually, some guy called Peter Capalldi." Absent nod of head, 10:19 – eleven minutes.

10:20 – 10 minutes.

"…last regeneration apparently" 10:22 – eight minutes.

At 10:25 they arrived, John tipped the Cabbie a fiver, promised to check out Doctor Who and ran into the building.

"Ah John perfect timing!" Sherlock smirked as the Doctor entered the room.

"Good morning to you too" John replied with a smile before nodding his head at Lestrade

"Greg"

"Morning John"

John listened to the two Men as they filled him in on all the details of a particularly gruesome murder.

Three Girls and a Boy had been found dead outside a Bakery on the outskirts of London, in the early hours of that morning. All four of the victims had bruising to the back of the head, neck and legs. Two of the girls had had half of their hair seemingly ripped from their heads, and the other two of the victims had only one ear. They all, had multiple cuts to the legs and arms, as well as multiple broken bones.

But the most disturbing thing about this murder was the writing. Each of the victims had a word carved into their backs. Just, fun, some and having. Obviously placed in the right order spelt "Just having some fun" However there were obvious messes in the writing which showed that the victims had been alive whilst it was written. It was also proven to be the freshest injury, showing that the victims were alive for the whole of the torture.

"The killer was long gone before we got to the scene" Lestrade added "No sign of him"

"Ah, but he's brilliant and all-"

"All the brilliant ones are desperate to get caught, they need an audience" John cut Sherlock off, stealing his words. Referring back to their first ever case together.

Sherlock grinned at John and John thought he saw a hint of pride in his eyes. But of course he was just reading into things.

He had a sudden urge to kiss Sherlock, instead he smiled back.

"Ahem"

John turned to see Lestrade with a raised eyebrow and the two men realized they had been smiling at each other for quite some time.

"Sorry" Sherlock apologized "Do carry on Lestrade"

Lestrade smirked as if he knew something the pair of them didn't, before saying "I can give you their names and ages if you like?"

"Go ahead"

Lestrade glanced at his papers before announcing the details; "Harry Scott 23, Niamh Soper 19, Victoria Brooke 23 and Kyra Stafford 22"

"Do their families know?" John queried.

"Being told as we speak poor sods."

"Right come along John" Sherlock spoke up.

"Where are we going?" He asked in confusion.

"Oh for god's sake John, to the crime scene of course" And with that, he left in a billow of coat and curls.

John could do nothing but shrug apologetically at Lestrade, before running after him in anticipation.

The smell of blood was almost overwhelming, as John crossed the tape he saw that a few of the newer officers had turned their backs and covered their mouths. Anderson was throwing up over the police tape! As they passed him John saw Sherlock chuckle and role his eyes in Anderson's direction, John couldn't help but smirk.

Just as they reached the bodies Sherlock spun on his heel and turned to John.

"I want you to look around the streets John, the killer is definitely near here. If you find him don't hesitate to shoot him, but not fatally. Just enough to stop him running." Sherlock looked at Lestrade for approval and said "Do you have a gun?"

"Always" John answered before turning and walking back to the tape.

As he reached it he turned around to see Sherlock still staring, he smiled at him and mouthed a "be careful", to which Sherlock replied a curt nod. He then bent over the bodies and started talking very quickly to Lestrade.

It had been twenty minutes and John hadn't found the killer, he had wandered into a maze of alleyways and abandoned rubbish bins and was contemplating the idea of being lost. He turned back around and started walking the way he came, tracing his steps.

There was a scuffle behind him and John spun quickly on his heel, only to be met with wheelie bins and the smell of rubbish. He shook his head and carried op walking.

Suddenly there was a massive bang which echoed through the deserted paths and John spun around, twice as quickly as before. This time he saw two bins on the floor and rubbish strewn all around them, a man was standing there grinning like a maniac. John's brain was racing; double speed "_take notes_" he thought "_take notes_"

He made a list in his head so that if the murderer got away, he would have means to find him with.

Bald

One ear

Tall (about 6'3)

Gold tooth

Boa Constrictor tattoo wrapped around his left arm

However before he could get any further with capturing the criminal, there was a deafening crack, a sound John knew all too well. And less than a second later a searing, burning pain in his side, and another in the back of his left shoulder.

John collapsed, hitting his head on the cobbled floor. His vision was blurred, he was in agony and he was rolling around in his own pool of blood. He could barely see a thing but he could make out two figures running away from him, in the direction John was meant to have been heading.

John could feel he was slipping away, hopefully not into death but into unconsciousness.

"I hope Sherlock finds me" John thought as he closed his eyes "I still need to tell him I love him" With that simple thought John shut his eyes and fell limp onto the cold stones.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here we go guys the long awaited Chapter Six! Sorry it took so long but I hope you enjoy.**

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**I love you all thank you for reading**

**Scarlett**

**xx**

**Chapter Six**

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

It was already getting on John's nerves and he had only been awake for about two minutes. It was the only thing he could hear, it was pounding against his ear drums. To John it felt as though every beep was making it harder for him to breath.

He felt claustrophobic, as though a massive weight was pressing down on his chest.

John tried to calm down; he was a Doctor he knew that panicking wouldn't help.

"Deep breaths." He thought to himself, "Deep breaths."

He couldn't calm down though, all he could think of was how much pain was radiating out of his body from his head, left side and left shoulder.

_Beep_

_Beep_

_Beep_

It was becoming so much harder to breath.

John was aware he was hyperventilating and the light which he had been half aware of seemed to be getting brighter and brighter and it was blaring through his closed eyelids.

John clenched them tighter than he ever had before.

"Shhhh, John Shhhh, it's okay." He heard a deep voice say quietly beside his ear.

He knew that voice; it was possibly John's favourite sound in the whole world.

It was Sherlock.

He didn't expect him to be here, here being wherever he was.

Then Sherlock was stroking his forehead and massaging his temples, John could feel himself relax instantly.

The beeping decreasing in sound until it was eventually back to the volume it should have been and John's breathing became more regular and less panicked.

Sherlock's hand was sending sparks of electricity throughout his whole body, John wanted to lean into his hand so much, but his body was still waking up and wouldn't co-operate with him.

And then suddenly the beeping was drowned out by the most beautiful thing John had ever heard. It beat Sherlock speaking a million times over.

He was singing. Sherlock was singing to John, and it could only be described as absolutely stunning.

John knew the song too, it was definitely not something he expected Sherlock to know, let alone sing.

_I don't know you but I want you all the more for that_

_Words fall through me and always fool me_

_And I can't react._

The sparks where increasing, John loved this man so much.

_And games that never amount to more than they're meant _

_Will play themselves out_

_Take this sinking Boat and point it home_

_We've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice_

_You've made it now_

John was in absolute awe.

_Falling slowly _

_Eyes that know me _

_And I'm painted black_

_And moves that take me_

_And erase me_

_And I can't go back_

John didn't want to be silent anymore. He knew it was going to hurt but he wanted to sing with Sherlock, if Sherlock would let him. So as Sherlock continued to sing, John joined in.

_You have suffered enough_

_And warred with yourself_

_It's time that you won._

John's throat was burning but he barely even noticed. He could only manage to sing in a raspy whisper, as he hadn't used his voice in a while. Still he was in pure bliss, he still had his eyes closed because of the blinding light but he could hear that Sherlock was smiling as he sung. John was smiling too.

_Take this sinking boat and point it home_

_We've still got time_

_Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice_

_You've made it now._

At this point John opened his eyes, squinting against the light and stared up at the beautiful man next to him.

_Falling slowly sing your melody_

_I'll sing along_

As the song ended John smiled up at Sherlock whose hand was still on his forehead. And Sherlock smiled back.

"You have a beautiful voice" John whispered to Sherlock, his throat on fire.

"Thank you" he replied "so do you"

"Shut up" John chuckled and then groaned in pain.

"Are you alright? Do you need some pain medication?" Sherlock asked voice full of concern.

"No I'm fine, wait pain medication? Am I in a hospital?" John asked looking away from Sherlock's face to take in his surroundings.

"Of course you're in a hospital, you- you've been shot John. You do remember don't you?" Sherlock questioned, his voice cracking slightly when he said that John had been shot.

"Oh- Oh yeah. No I remember now." John realized as the memories flooded back to him.

Alleyways, dustbins, boa constrictor tattoo.

"Did you get them?" John asked.

"Yes John, Lestrade's men had them surrounded, I got you and called an ambulance" Sherlock explained, removing his hand from John's head and placing it in his lap.

He suddenly felt very cold and vulnerable at the absence of his hand but he didn't let that show.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"Three days. Not a coma you just didn't want to wake up it seemed. Well that's what the Doctor's said." Sherlock told him, rubbing his hands over his face and sighing deeply.

"You haven't been here the whole time have you?" John asked

Sherlock merely nodded and whispered "I couldn't leave you"

John was in shock. Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective who was married to his work and incapable of feelings had stayed with him for three whole days, in a hospital.

"Hadn't he died of boredom?" John thought.

But before John had the chance to ask anything else Sherlock was speaking so fast it hurt John's drugged brain trying to catch up.

"John I'm so sorry, it's my entire fault you are here like this. I shouldn't have been so irresponsible and let you go on your own. I know you're capable of course but if I had gone with you like normal then you probably would not have been shot. I never expected there would be two of them."

By this point Sherlock had tears streaming down his face and he was looking down, anywhere but John.

John however was unable to take his eyes off of Sherlock; he never expected to see him show any emotion. Let alone open up this much. But the thought that Sherlock blamed himself was absolutely horrifying to John.

"I should have seen it; I don't know how I didn't. But when I came to get you and there was so much blood and I thought I'd lost you. John I was so- I was scared John. I think, John I think- I think I might have feelings for you. It terrifies me- you terrify me. And if you want to move out after you've got out of hospital I understand, if you don't want to have to face me then I will try to accept it. But I promise you, that if you choose to stay it won't be any different. We can continue to be friends and I won't bring it up again. But John _please_, you can see for yourself how much you mean to me now. D- Don't, please don't go. I- I love you and it would kill me if you left. I'm so sorry John, for this, for everything. You don't deserve it"

Sherlock was shaking now, head down and tears streaming down his face. John couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Sherlock was in love with him. Sherlock Holmes. This was insane. There was only one thing that John could think of saying.

"You idiot" He whispered hoarsely "You absolute, complete twat"

Sherlock looked up, confused and tear stained. John could see the bags under his eyes from lack of sleep.

"You think I blame you? You think that this" He looked around the hospital room for emphasis, as he couldn't move his hands yet. "Is your fault?"

"You know for the worlds only consulting detective you really are thick" John smiled.

"I don't understand John I-"

"I trust you with my life; I know there are going to be risks when we go out on cases. Of course there will be, but I'm willing to take them. You get off on solving the crimes and I get off on the danger."

Sherlock smiled weakly, looking down at John with eyes full of the emotion John couldn't place before, love.

"Sherlock Holmes, you're in love with me?"

"Will you stay with me then?" Sherlock asked.

John willed his hand to move and rested it on Sherlock's cheek, stroking his thumb over his chiseled cheekbones.

Sherlock's eyes widened and then closed in a sigh of contentment.

"If you'll have me" John replied, pulling Sherlock's head down towards his.

John closed his eyes as their lips met and he was in absolute bliss. He'd read in stories that sparks flew when you kissed "the one" but he just presumed that it was over exaggeration. He was so wrong, he felt like his whole body had been lit on fire.

John led the kiss, he guessed Sherlock had never done anything like this before and so he took it slowly, moving his lips against Sherlock's. As Sherlock got used to it he started to move his lips in synchronization with John's.

Sherlock opened his mouth slightly for air and John slipped his tongue in, Sherlock moaned in delight and tangled his tongue with John's. It became a battle for dominance which Sherlock won.

Eventually, both men had to break for air, both gasping, lips swollen and grins plastering their faces.

John seemed to have become oblivious to the pain and was too focused on Sherlock's lips to notice anything else. So he didn't notice the nurse open the door and tiptoe to the other side of the bed where all the wires and tubes were located. He didn't notice as the nurse added more sedatives to a certain tube.

"I love you so much Sherlock" John whispered.

"I love you too John, more than you'll ever know. But right now you need to sleep" He replied kissing his forehead and taking his hand in his.

"But I don' want, I want to stay with you" John said, his words drawled by the sedatives.

"I won't leave your side John, never again"

"Promise" He murmured eyes closing and grip loosening on Sherlock's hand.

"Promise"

And that was the last thing John heard, as he drifted off to sleep. Although he did have the inkling he heard something else, faint but there.

"_I don't know you but I want you all the more for that… "_


End file.
